


in the right place

by GhostySchnibibit



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, and not just internal monologues, but it is not this day, mavis and mookie are there too but they don't have any dialogue, one day i'll post a fic here that actually has conversations, same goes for angus, throwing that tag in there for a one sentence reference to past merle/hecuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21870988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostySchnibibit/pseuds/GhostySchnibibit
Summary: And what happens next is pretty incredible. Because right when the wagon is about to fall on your kids, it changes directions, suddenly and violently, and it pitches just ninety degrees to the right instantly, sending the whole wagon and all of its contents crashing through the front wall of this candy shop, sending the jars of sweets inside just scattering to the floor and just, just just destroying the front facade of this shop.Barry's POV during Lunar Interlude IV
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	in the right place

This marks the fifth time Barry's seen Merle meeting with his children in Neverwinter.

He's currently in his lich form, stuck as he’s been for the latter part of the last two years, hovering silent and invisible among the thick leaves of the trees in Neverwinter’s Blue Lake district as the glow of the setting sun turns the sky a brilliant gold.

He’s kept a quiet but close watch over the remaining members of his family these last few weeks since they retrieved the Temporal Chalice. He doesn’t have the heart keep up the big bad Red Robe act anymore, not after Refuge, so he has to be extra careful not to be seen. With only his own Relic still out in the world and the Hunger’s arrival barely two months away, he knows he should be devoting what little time he has left to preparing his final stand against the Bureau of Balance.

And yet… he can’t keep away.

Whether he’s still vainly hoping he’ll find some way to convince them to trust him and protect them from the danger yet to come before the solstice, or just using them as a distraction from the loneliness that’s tightened like a noose around his neck over the last decade, he doesn’t really know. He doesn’t suppose it really matters at this point.

So he looks after them, when he has the time, like today, on their occasional trips to the surface. Never approaching, never communicating, just… looking. Quietly wishing he could be a part of their lives again.

He watches through the branches as the dwarven man talks with three children at the end of their day on the town, two young dwarves and one human tag-along, careful to keep his presence unknown to all four.

It had taken quite a bit of research, some of it gathered in lich form and some of it in living form, for Barry to learn what his family had been up to in the years following… following _her_ betrayal. Magnus was easy to track down, as was Taako, by the triumphs and tragedies that haunted them, their happy endings crumbling underneath them and leaving them tumbling down into obscurity. Merle’s fall, comparatively, was from a much shorter height, but it hurt just as much when Barry finally learned its details.

Learning that Merle had taken a wife through arrangement in the ten-year gap between the mind-wipe and his employment under the Bureau was a shock. Learning he’d had a child of his own in that time, on this world that they’d all felt so unworthy of being a part of after the damage the Relics caused it, and was stepfather to another, was even more so. Learning that he’d abandoned them both once that union turned sour, already loveless but newly abusive and draining in the worst of ways, leaving his small family to fend for itself while he walked away… that stung.

This is another thing Lucretia took from him, with her… _redactions_ , Barry thinks bitterly. The Merle standing in the shade of a tree talking with these children is only a fraction of what he once was; all wanderlust with no calling, all impulse with no connections, all insecurity with no purpose.

The Merle Highchurch he knew was the closest man he’d had to a father figure for the better part of the last century, not someone who would leave his children behind in a time of personal weakness.

But he’s trying to make it right, Barry can tell. His visits with them have grown more frequent, more prolonged, more focused on getting to know them and earning back some of their trust. Merle’s trying his hardest to mend this bridge, to fix what he can while he can. The man Barry remembers is mostly there under the surface. He's slowly gaining back his missing pieces, bit by bit, thanks to the time he’s spent surrounded by even a small fraction of his family again.

They’re walking back towards the docks, now, the little human (who Barry really should learn the name of at some point considering how fond of him his family seems to be, a mental note to add that quest to his coin later) chatting amicably with the girl as the boy clings to his father’s new hand. The boy starts bouncing on his heels as they near the docks, pointing animatedly to a rainbow-colored building with a large gumdrop shaped sign by the boardwalk. He releases his grip on the soul wood appendage and races down the steps and towards the shop. The girl shouts for him to wait before shrugging amicably and excusing herself to run after him.

Merle hangs back, for the moment, watching them go with a familiar, fond look in his eyes that makes Barry’s undead heart ache. He glides away to follow the children, drifting along the damp canvas sails and empty wooden crates piled on the opposite side of the pier. He continues watching, thinking.

The boy is just like his father, in looks and in temperament. Unruly soil-colored curls spilling out from under his cap, dark freckles absolutely covering his russet brown skin, dirt all over his hands and feet and grass stains on his clothes from play, hazel eyes crinkled by the force of a wide smile. All energy and curiosity and _joy_ , joy above all things in every movement and word.

Right now that joy is focused on the saccharine wonders just beyond his reach as he presses his face to the glass of the shop’s door, still jumping up and down with excitement. His sister rushes to meet him, explaining with a kind but firm tone that the shop is closed for the day, and consoling him when his lip begins to wibble in response.

The girl resembles Merle only partially, only in personality (which he supposes makes sense for their lack of blood relation). Straight red hair pulled back into a neat dwarven braid, pale skin more suited to mountain climes lightly burned on the shoulders and cheeks by coastal sun, clothes neatly pressed and somehow still clean despite wrangling her rowdier half-brother, round silver-framed glasses shielding icy blue eyes.

But Barry can see in her an intensity that echoes Merle, a stubbornness, a fierce sense of conviction. If anything, he thinks with a slight smile on his ghostly face, she resembles the parts of her stepfather that could only be brought out by the fieriness of their captain.

There’s a sudden, loud _crack_ from the mainland that rips Barry from his thoughts.

From his vantage point hovering beside the docks, he's able to take in the commotion far faster than any of the mortals milling about the area can, putting together each piece of the puzzle full seconds before anyone else.

The rope, long abused by the friction of repeated use and the corrosive spray of salt water, splitting in two under strain. The wagon, heavy with wares freshly shipped from the sea, coming unhitched from its post as it’s tether fails and rolling away from the commercial area and back towards the docks, gaining speed as it travels. The owner, panicking as he turns around and finds it rapidly rolling down a decline he didn’t realize was even there, screaming for someone to do something about his escaped property as it goes careening down the steps and further down onto the pier.

The children, _Merle’s children_ , terribly young and terribly oblivious, standing right in the wagon’s path.

The wagon is barreling straight for them. It’s already far too late for them to get out of its way unscathed, and Barry, in that second, mere inches away from tragedy, acts on blind instinct, on emotion, on _love._

The wagon crumples under the force of his will like tissue paper.

In an instant the front display of the candy shop is reduced to a rain of shattered glass and fractured sugar as it all but implodes from the force of the wagon slamming into it, its kinetic energy making a hard snap from vertical to horizontal and propelling it away from the street with a deafening crunch.

The children are without a scratch on them. They stare wide eyed into the maw of the decimated shop, the older girl’s arms wrapping reflexively around her little brother’s shoulders to keep him away from the wreckage as he starts to shake.

Barry’s chest heaves in an automatic imitation of breath, his spectral form shuddering from the strain, his outstretched skeletal arm still crackling with the remnants of the ferocious magical blast he sent into the wagon. He smiles at seeing the two siblings where they stand whole and unharmed before the debris, lets a quiet laugh escape him from the shock of it. He did it, they’re _safe,_ he _did it._

He hears shouting, attention drawn back to Merle as he and the human boy come running. Merle stops to catch his breath at the bottom of the stairs while the boy keeps sprinting down the pier towards the shop. He gapes in awe at the devastated storefront, before looking around as if he thinks he’ll find the source of this miracle.

And Merle sees Barry. And Barry looks him right in the eyes.

And the expression on Merle’s face as he comprehends what he’s seeing is confused, and frightened, and… relieved. Grateful. _Trusting._

Barry lets his hand fall limp to his side. They stare at each other, seconds ticking by. Then Merle blinks, and by the time his eyes open again Barry has cast Invisibility on himself.

He lingers for a moment and watches as Merle blinks a few more times, that look of bewildered thankfulness haunting his face, before his attention turns back to his children on the docks. He runs for them, with all the haste Barry remembers him always having for those he loved, as the lich flies away, back towards his lonely cave with a new spark of hope to light his spectral heart.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting finished in my wip folder for over a year, finally decided to post it. i have a lot of feelings about barry, and a lot of feelings about merle, and i feel like a lot of people forget about this scene given how much other stuff happens in lunar interlude iv so i wanted to flesh it out more from barry's pov. grabbed the quote in the description from griffin's narration because i couldn't decide what line from the actual fic would work best lol
> 
> i haven't posted anything on here since 2017, mostly because of college, but i'm graduated now so hopefully you guys will see more stuff from me soon! i have a lot of wips that it's my goal to finish in the new year, mostly balance stuff but a few amnesty and non-taz fics as well ^u^


End file.
